Reflections of a bipolar & love addicted sista

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Today is World Poetry Day and I couldn’t be more excited. I love poetry! I’ve been sharing some of many of my favorite poems on social media all day long.

I decided to share one of my poems on my blog. Several years I ago, I wrote a manuscript during one of my manic phases about the passion and unrequited love I experienced with The One Who Didn’t Feel the Same. It was nearly 8,000 words. I thought it was the greatest thing ever. He felt quite the opposite though. Years later I can see why I would probably be freaked out too if someone handed me 70+ pages about their feelings about me. Yikes!

I won’t bore you with 8,000 words though. I’ll just share an excerpt in honor of World Poetry Day. Try to enjoy!

Words

I want to caress you
With the flesh of my words
Until you are found naked
Breathless in the midst of them
And too overwhelmed to read the next line

I want to push you
Against the wall of my words
Pin your arms down
And brush them against you
Whisper sweet nothings in your ear
Deprive you of your sight
And trace each letter across your lips

I want to straddle you
With its heated secretions
Wrap my words around your waist
Use my thighs as a guide
And grind them into your thoughts
Until you render a response

Thrust your eyes against my pages
And tremble with passion
Repeat with me in unison
Until you unequivocally surrender
To my doctrine
Thumb across my words
And land into my mouth
Kiss my impatient lips…

What was this life altering news? Are you sitting down? Please tell me that you are sitting down.

I found out that The One Who Sets Me On Fire and The One Who Is Special are in a blossoming bromance.

Yes. You read that correctly. They initially became friends on Facebook but I did not think much of it. I’m FB friends with people that I’ll never talk to on the phone nor see in person. But somehow, someway they have been hanging out in the flesh! From what I could gather (as inconspicuously as possible), the bromance began in October. How did I find out? Special mentioned his name in passing. I tried not to seem too interested because I did not want to raise any suspicion.

“Yeah, we talked about you the other day,” he said casually. He rapidly changed the subject (damn ADD) but I redirected him.

“Oh…really? Y’all talked about me? All good things I hope,” I nervously said.

“Yeah. We were just talking about how cool you are. He was just saying how you [like to] attend art shows…”

“Oh.”

Was that it? No discussion about how both their penises attended my vagina?

I let out a big sigh of relief in my head. That big sigh turned even smaller after he showed me what Fire gave him. Sidenote: Fire has never bought me a gift. Never! Unless I counted the 15 pack of Heineken that I’ve slowly been giving away for months because I don’t drink beer!

My heart nearly stopped. What the hell was going on?! Am I being Punk’d? Is this the f*cking Twilight Zone? Did I pop a Molly?

I cracked a smile and jokingly asked, “So are you guys like besties now?”

“Yeah. Something like that,” he nonchalantly replied.

How in the entire f*ck did this happen? I can see why they would make great friends. They’re comic book nerds, free spirits and work in the same profession. But why me? Why is this my life? Ugh!

I doubt Fire will say anything because of his need for discretion but I cannot say the same for Special. He tends to go on tangents. What if he mentions my vagina during one of those tangents? It shouldn’t concern me because I’m not with either one of them. In addition, my vajayjay belongs to me. But we all know that I will look like a Sluts McGee in their eyes.

I cannot go through another embarrassing situation like this. Yes. Another one. Let’s take a skanky trip down memory lane. Shall we?

The year was 2003. I met The One Who Was a Rude Boy while employed at Old Navy. He was a Caribbean teenager who flirted with me constantly. I did not take him seriously because he was barely legal. After our shift, I met The One With Dreadlocks—his older brother. There was an instant attraction. I pestered Rude Boy about his brother but he was being such a cock blocker. I devised another plan—get close to Rude Boy to get to Dreadlocks.

I could barely catch up with the object of my desire when I visited Rude Boy. I gave up on my mission. Rude Boy and I slept together once but I still couldn’t get Dreadlocks off my mind. When I finally encountered Dreadlocks, I made my move. I kicked Rude Boy to the curb and took Dreadlocks as my new lover.

We perfected the art of discretion until Rude Boy walked in on us bumping and grinding a few months later. He told us to have fun and left. Once the dust settled, we continued our trysts. We later drifted apart after I told him that I wanted to be with him. He reconsidered the relationship idea months later but the thrill was gone. I also saw the err of my ways.

Last summer, I saw a pic of Dreadlocks and his new wife on Facebook. And here I am. Still single. Maybe I am a Sluts McGee…

Present day I find myself in another pickle. Maybe pickle is the wrong word. What is a girl to do? I’m honestly at a loss for words even though I just typed over 700 of them.